Friday, 20 November 2015

They say you should never
find your home in a person, for all that ever leads to is homesickness. People
change, people leave, people move. Make your home some place steady. Make your
home at places. That way, when all people scatter and you feel stranded, you
can always go back to land and own it; feel a familiar ground beneath your feet
and love the gravity for its pull. Believe me, there is no worse advice.

I am a lover of places. I
wear my heart on my sleeve and fall in love with land. With the bumps and the
stones, with the grass and the trees, with the landmarks and signposts, with
the walls and their windows, with the broken windowpane that no one fixed, with
that one dust bunny that has always been around, with the patch of sky that
forms the highest domed ceiling of the world, with the buildings
under-construction, with the buildings declining, with corridors that give off
whiffs of grime, with the clock that's been stuck at 2pm all this time, with
food that you can't eat if you've seen being cooked, with library books, with
all staircases and all corners, all nooks, with the morning air that only
smells like that there. If you've ever seen how it looks when it rains there,
you would know what I'm talking about.

I am a lover of places.
When we moved out of our last house, I cried for weeks. I said 'take me home,
please.' And when they told me this was my home now, I cried even harder. These
walls will never be those walls. This floor will never be that floor. I look
out the window and don't see what I used to see. This is not my home.

I wear my heart on my
sleeve, and it's graduation day. I walked in here feeling displaced and in four
years I've given my heart to a place, yet again. People say, move on! This is
how long this was supposed to last. I only hear: don't love, don't love, don't
love. Never fall in love with places. People you can take with you, places are
stubborn; they won't budge. It hurts more walking away. Being left will always
be easier than leaving. I have the power to stay here a bit longer. This
thought will drive you mad. Is it better to stay and let it get deeper under
your skin, or should you worry about how much more it is going to bleed then
and rip it out now? While you can? While you can see it stirring your thickest
vein?

When two people part ways,
the world says: 'There are plenty of
fish in the sea'. I read a poem once that said: 'and if she was the ocean?
There are seven of those too' See, that's where the poet was wrong. Even if
there were seven million oceans on planet Earth, home would be your place of
birth. Not where you were literally born but where you built yourself. For you,
there would always be that one ocean you want to swim in, jump in and die in.
The poet was wrong.

I am a lover of places,
and that's the worst kind of love there is. It's invisible, intangible. Your
beloved stays where she is; you change, you leave, you move and being left will
always be easier than leaving.

When i was younger
my aims and prospective careers used to change everyday; I didn't know
what I wanted to be, I only knew that I want to be the best at whatever i did. I
haven't changed much but i have found out that whoever you are and
whatever your talent is, there is always going to be someone who is
better at it. It depressed me for a while, and then of my best friends said "Are you going to spend your
life being depressed about the fact that you aren't born best at
something, or are you going to look for something you're good at and BE
the best at it?" And now I'm okay with it.